Son of a bitch! Can a lady get a break? I don’t think so.

I returned to my house in Opelika this morning to find that the back door had been crow-barred open. WTF? What on earth do I have that is worth breaking and entering?

Apparently, only three things: a gun, a GameCube, and cash.

Except out in my garage is a whole bunch of stuff that might actually have been worth something – and it was unlocked. Ah, the idiocy of teenagers. Cause some pretty severe damage to a door to steal three things when you could have just lifted the garage door and found a plethora of theft-worthy junk. Well now I’m too freaked out to leave my garage doors (this garage is, of course, completely separate from our house) unlocked anymore, so you definitely missed out.

And as much as I love my cats, the burden they’re causing me right now is so great that my second thought upon entering the house was, “Well, darnit, they could have at least left the door open so the cats could run away!”

I am seriously heartless. An appeal for the sake of the poor kitties – PLEASE someone offer to take them from me before I leave the door open myself!!

Now, for some reason when I got home and saw that my back door easily swung open I wasn’t scared. I hadn’t been home in a week and I really didn’t think any burglar would still be in residence inside. My first thought, in case you were curious from my comment above, was: “Dammit, how can I tell what’s been stolen? This house was a wreck before anyone broke in!”

So it took me awhile to sort through what was just messy and what had been rifled through, which I probably could have just saved until the police arrived because I pretty much destroyed any evidence still in existence before I even dialed 911. But dial I did and two lovely policemen, who likely couldn’t wait to get outside and breathe cat-smell-free air, arrived about half an hour after I got home. I got the distinct impression that the OPD doesn’t get a lot of action (which, to be fair, they really should — there are some scary thugs in the vicinity of my house alone) because I think they actually thought they could solve the case and find the “perp.”

The more seasoned cop even once made the comment, “I wish there’d been some blood or something…” As if the OPD is going to spend the likely thousands of dollars it costs to do DNA analysis to recover the five hundred dollars of property stolen from my home. I doubt it. But I do appreciate their enthusiasm! They even called out a detective who came with his camera and took some pictures to document the state in which the Felon (yes, I said FELON! 2 counts of felony, actually, I found out) left my house. Disturbingly, the only major difference to be found from before and after the burglary was a couple of drawers open on our sofa table and the broken door frame. Oh, and they apparently thought we were Bubba enough to store money between our mattress and box-springs because they did have the mattress slid off to the side.

No, we were just Bubba enough to leave a fair amount of cash in a lockbox on the living room floor. Only, the lockbox wasn’t locked. Brilliance!

Seriously, though, I’m in a remarkably good mood for having just been robbed. Either I’ve just finally gone over the deep end or I’m getting my funny-mojo back!! Let’s hope it’s the second 🙂

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